One Among The Sleepless
by Fruityferret
Summary: <html><head></head>So, who is this 'One? Is it Topher, the office clerk with a vendetta against his neighbors? Or maybe it's Brick, the guy with an unhealthy obsession over his dominatrix neighbor. Or perhaps Alejandro, the suave, charismatic party animal who refuses to accept Courtney is the one girl he's got to have, but the one girl who won't fall for his charm. This should be interesting...</html>


**Coming at you with a story with sexual content, drugs, death and a whole lot of craziness. So you HAVE BEEN WARNED. The original 'One Among The Sleepless' is a story by my favorite author, Mike Bennett. You can by the book or audio.**

**I really hope You like the story. Won't be everyone's cup of tea but, ya know, even just a simple sip makes you awesome. Who knows, maybe its just that one sip that gets you hooked, or the second... or even the third...**

**Less tea talk, more story reading. Now, be a good dear and start reading already...**

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><p><em><strong>~Topher~<strong>_

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><p>Topher Reynold's dream shifted, seamlessly and suddenly into nightmare. Voodoo drums carried through the thick jungle, pushed along capricious, tropical winds. They rose and fell as some unseen horror reach for him thought the undergrowth that was growing all around him. He began to run, stumbling on uncertain terrain as the noise from the drums grew louder, more urgent. Constantly, he was becoming tangled in vines that slashed across his ankles, ripping through his pant legs and causing deep cuts. Finally, the vines wrapped around his legs, pulling him down into uncertain darkness.<p>

Topher now found himself gripped, now incapable of movement. A terrible fear started to rise in his stomach. The fear that whatever was chasing him would soon be upon him as the drums thudded on and on and…

All at once, the drums stopped. The nightmare began to disintegrate. And then, just as abruptly as it had stopped, the drumming began once again. Only this time, Topher's conscious mind began to intervene. He opened his eyes.

It was _them._

He sat up in bed and faced the window. Very clearly now, he could hear the loud, consistent thudding that broke the silence of the night. Slowly, he stood up and went over to his window. He pulled back the curtains and looked out into the two a.m. dark. Sure enough, it was as he had expected. The ground floor window of the house that backed on to his, separated by two yards and a wooden fence.

Topher stared in condescension. All sleepiness long lost to the night, now replaced by the hate and adrenaline pumped by his heavy heart. He seethed, audibly; his breathing hissing profanities.

He reached to one side, closing his fingers around a camera on his nightstand. He planted the legs of his tripod in front of him, grabbing at the tripod trying to steady it, the camera already at the correct length. The big zoom lens didn't require much to become zoomed in on the lightened terrace beyond him.

A French window spilled ugly yellow light on a dirtied patio and broken paving stones. The going ons inside were the usually antics. A young, bare chested Spaniard with dark hair grinded slowly around the room to the beat of the music. His hand caressing some invisible partner as he danced like a moron, a dance more like penetration than like footwork.

Topher zoomed in closer, the contempt in his heart growing like wildfire, and the lines of his face continuing to deepen with loathing as he eye-picked the scene.

"Oh, you fucking piece of shit," he hissed, his fingers tightening around the camera and shaking his head from side to side. "Un-fucking-believable."

He turned his camera ever so slightly, following the shithead as he danced his way towards the couch. Two similarly dressed men sat there and began applauding their companion.

"Fucking shitheads. I mean look at this!" Topher growled to no one in particular. "Just look at him. This fucker and his friends, this strutting cock, acting like some complete idiot for no reason! Look at him, as good as masturbating in front of those idiots! Those idiots whooping and cheering like he has performed some miracle! I can't fucking believe it."

And to Topher's pure astonishment and disgust, this shithead turned and glided toward the stereo. And just like that, the thudding increased to an preposterous volume.

"Wow," he hissed. "Incredible. I mean, you can fucking feel it! For fuck's sake."

He continued to watch the act with more resentment than he'd ever known he had. The all stood up and began dancing, acting like unkempt monkeys. They were all half naked, grinding around the room with the curtains wide open without a care or a brain cell in the fucking world.

"Oh, and what's this?" He said to himself as he zoomed in ever so slightly. "Oh, of course, a fucking bong. 'Oh yeah man, pass it 'round, pass it 'round!'" He mocked as he watched each of the men take a hit and continue to dance foolishly across the room. The lack of sleep from being woken up by these oafs night after night for a month had literally driven him insane.

"Fucking pathetic. No thought at all for others. Fuck the neighbors. We are having a good time. That's all that fucking matters."

Topher pulled away from the camera. He looked up to the ceiling, attempting to relieve some of the pressure in his temples. He stretched his arms out, sighing.

"I could kill you, you know," he said, staring back out the window. "Every single one of you selfish, hateful bastards."

He watched them dance in the distant. He also watched himself enter with a machine gun, letting bullets spray into their bare backs and chests and watching with glee as they all fell to the ground in pools of their own blood.

"If only," he whispered, the noise from the house never-ending. The three men partied on, oblivious to their demise conjured in Topher's brain.

Topher sat on his bed, the beat of the music seemingly shaking his house. He thought of the plan he'd been hatching for weeks now. He stared at his clothes draped on the chair and the blue duffel bag sitting on the floor.

He bit on his top lip as he envisioned what he should do next. Should he get dressed? Was tonight the night? Was it finally time for him to put these shitheads in their place?

The music stopped. Topher stood up and walked back to the window. All things were once again silent and undisturbed. He heaved a sigh in relief.

"Thank God," he thought. He was exhausted, and now he could finally get some sleep. Tonight wasn't the night, but that night was coming soon. And for sure, these fuckers were going to get what they oh so rightfully deserved.

He thought of his deeply thought out plan as he lay on his bed. He mused over every detail as his heart-rate slowed. The thoughts were calming, and he soon fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

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><p><strong>~Dawn~<strong>

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><p>"What in the hell is she doing up there?" Brick shouted, grabbing the remote and, to Dawn's annoyance, putting the movie on mute. He dropped it on the couch next to him, just out of the reach of his fiancé.<p>

"I don't know, Brick," Dawn replied wearily. "Just turn the sound back up."

"Why the fuck should I?" He asked. "Do you hear this? She's like an elephant on a pogo stick!"

The loud thumping shook their ceiling and other items in their room. "Look," Brick said, pointing to the shaking lampshade. "The flipping lampshade is shaking. _Shaking_."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Just ignore it and turn the television sound up," she says to him again seeing her movie play on in silence. "It'll probably end soon."

"Like hell I will. It's been going for over an hour. It's like she's hosting a party for jumping hippos and baboons up there."

The blonde twirled her long locks with her fingers string gazing jadedly at the muted characters on the television set. "It's undoubtedly her having a frolic with her boyfriend on the floor or something. You know how people are." She reached over for the remote to turn the volume back up. "Now give me the remote. I'm missing the plot."

"No! There's no way I can enjoy this movie with this ruckus going on." He snatched the remote up and stood up. "It's ridiculous!"

Dawn huffed and stood up, striding toward the TV. She used her body to block the remotes signal as she reached down and turned the volume up.

"_There's no chance for escape, commander,"_ the Eastern man on the television said holding a gun in his hand.

Still blocking the TV, she turned to Brick, arms crossed in front of her chest. "Now, are you going to make me stand here all night or am I'm going to be able to sit down and enjoy my movie?"

Brick groaned and dropped the remote back onto the couch. "Fine. You can sit here and watch the movie. I'm going up there and asking them to stop."

Dawn shook her head and sat down on the couch, not taking Brick any kind of serious. "Oh come on, Brick. What if some big guy answers the door? He's not going to be happy you interjected on them."

"I don't give a fuck." Brick turned and headed towards the door. "I'm going to put this to an end."

Dawn turned to stare at her fiancé heading to the front door, realizing he was actually serious.

"Brick, what if he gets violent," she said. "What are you going to do if he tries to throw you down the stairs or something?"

"Well we are just going to have to go and see then, huh?"

"Brick…" She warned.

"No, Dawn, I'm going up there to see what's with all the noise." He told her firmly, opening the door.

"It's none of your business, Brick!" Brick walked out of the door, ignoring her warning.

"It is my business." His voice was distant now as he called from the hallway. "Because it's my freaking lampshade that shaking around like a bare ass in a strip club."

Dawn listened to Brick storm up the carpeted stairs of their apartment building. Dawn knew he was just going to cause more trouble than it was worth. She shook her head slightly and set her eyes back to the television where three masked men were taking crates out of a cargo hold.

She knew she wasn't going to be able to pay attention to the Easterners while Brick went upstairs and made a scene. Sighing, she muted the television and listened…

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><p><strong>~Jasmine~<strong>

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><p>Jasmine swished the schoolmaster's cane for dramatic effect as she surveyed the tremulous fat rump waited for her on the other side of the room. Its sweaty doe whiteness was soared with numerable red lines that occurred over various parts of the flesh. She addressed the owner of this uncomfortable position with contempt that he both expected and paid for.<p>

"Well you sniveling little shit, have you learned your lesson yet, or do you think you need further instruction?" She caressed the whipping tool in her hand delicately, waiting for his response.

Staring down at the floor, the man spoke with an evident quiver in his voice. "I… I don't feel chastened enough mistress. I think I'm in need for more punishment." He gulped. "I think another six should do the trick."

"Very well then." Jasmine slashed the air with her cane, adding a little season to her promise. "You shall have your six lashes. And by God if I ever see your fat ass in my rooms again by the end of term, I will make sure you never sit down again this side of Christmas. Do you understand me?"

The man in his kneeling position wailed in the affirmative.

"Good." Jasmine drew back the cane and ran at him. At the sound of her approach, the man braced himself. He closed his eyes on the tears that welled there; squeezing them out to mingle with the sweat that beaded down his fat, empurpled face. The cane _whooshed _through the hair as she came upon her trembling target. She struck the tense and waiting buttocks with all the force she could muster, sending the her trembling target forward and she too, staggered forward a few steps with the momentum of the hit. The man hissed between his clench teeth, forcing down a yelp of pain.

"Silence," Jasmine snapped. "You know that blubbing will only make things worse for you."

At this point there was a knock at the door.

"Shit," said Jasmine. The man looked up at her. "Stay there, Donald."

Jasmine left Donald hanging there to the arm of the sofa and entered into her bedroom. A moment later, she emerged in her dark red bathrobe. She came out and turned the corner, opening her front door. There was a man at the door. He seemed both vaguely familiar and absurdly huffy.

"Yes?" Said Jasmine.

"Look," the man started. "I know this isn't much of a greeting, but I live downstairs, and frankly, I'm going out of my mind with all this banging and noise you're making up here."

"Oh." Jasmine now recognized him from chance passings down in the front hallway. "I'm sorry," she tells him. "I was just… doing my aerobics."

Brick, who had only seconds earlier been steeled for combat, relaxed slightly in what seemed to a sincere apology.

"Huh, well, that's okay," he tells her. His eyes momentarily examined her robe. "It's… um… just it's extremely bothersome, you know?"

Jasmine smiled, leaning against the door frame. "I really am sorry. Sometimes I just get a bit carried away with them. I will definitely try and be a lot quieter in the future."

Brick smiled awkwardly. "It's alright. And like I said I know it's not a perfect greeting but my name's Brick." He extended his hand out to her.

Jasmine shook it briefly. "I'm Jasmine."

For some strange reason, Brick felt his cheeks becoming hot. "Uh, hello Jasmine." He was suddenly feeling abashed. "Well, I'll be off then. See you around."

Jasmine nodded. "See you around."

Brick, still smiling awkwardly, turned and padded down the carpeted steps. Jasmine closed the door. She dropped her smile and her robe simultaneously and went back into the front room.

Donald, still bent over and hanging on to the arm of the sofa, looked up. "Who was it?"

"Some wanker that lives down stairs," Jasmine told him. "He doesn't like all the noise I make when I run over to whack your miserable ass."

"What does this mean?"

"It means I either stop wearing the heels and run barefoot across the room over cushions, or I keep the shoes and whack you on the spot." She sighed. "It's up to you, Donald. You're the customer."

Donald let his eyes run the length of her. Starting with the black leather heels and running up the stockings, suspenders, lacey black panties and the black brazier, then back down again.

"Keep the heels," he says.

"Are you sure?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

He nodded, and then looked back down to the floor shamefully.

"Okay."

Jasmine crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps and picked up the cane. "Now, where were we? I seem to recall a certain naughty little blighter up for five of the best. But… hang on." She paused and looked curiously at Donald. "Whoever heard of five of the best? It should be six, don't you agree?"

She prodded his flabby flank with the end of her cane. He nodded, silently and raising his bottom, for the punishment he so richly deserved.

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><p><strong>~Topher~<strong>

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><p>It was a busy day for Topher. Not particularly busier than any other day, but busy nonetheless. Lack of sleep made everything seem that much more intolerable and burdensome. He felt as though there was a weight constantly pressing down on him, as though gravity were conspiring with his body clock in a joint effort to press him down and force him to go to sleep. He had to force himself awake throughout the day at various locations. On the bus, at his job, even at the gas station as he waited to pay for the contents of his duffel bag.<p>

Now of course he was wide awake. Fear, adrenaline, and maybe just good ol' fashioned hate were keeping him wired and alert as he tried to walk as naturally as possible along the darkened streets. It's closed to midnight, and as he walked, Topher occasionally looked about himself, making sure he wasn't catching the attention of anyone else. It was possible that there might be the odd drunk stumbling home after a night at the bar or a dog walker somewhere. Topher needed to carry out his plan unobserved and uninterrupted. But he was entirely alone.

He noticed a slight tremble in his breathing when he came upon the house he was looking for. But he was sure of the house. Often he had stood outside it, listening to the muted thud of the music that emanated from behind its white walls and front door. He had contemplated pounding on it, and demanding silence from those assholes. Always he had gone home, frustrated and afraid; afraid of being laughed at and ignored, or even hurt by the three pieces of shit.

But not tonight. A nervous smile rippled across his features. He looked furtively about for few seconds. Still, no one else was around. No one to notice him as he quickly opened the garden gate and took quick, meaningful strides up to the front patio door. He dropped down to one knee and, holding his breath, and gently opened the mail slot on the door. Inside he saw a darkened hallway. At the far right end of the hall he could see a closed white door with a thin strip of light shining beneath. Topher licked his lips. He knew it had to be the room he could see through his window.

Their play room.

The pounding music that had been playing earlier was now replaced with music of a more subtle beat. Still, he could feel the bass pulsing against the door beneath his fingers. They were probably off their tits on alcohol and drugs right now, probably screwing some girls who were equally out of their stupid heads. God knew he had seen such things through his camera in the past.

Topher grimaced in disgust and forced the memories out of his conscious. It was time for payback.

With trembling hands he set down the duffel bag and made a few discreet adjustments to it. From its opening he pulled a black, plastic nozzle. It was wet and, somehow… evil looking. Topher made sure the contents of his bag were securely wrapped and tucked neatly under his arm. He took one more glance around for comfort then he pushed the black nozzle the letter slot. He pushed the bag closer to the door, then gently tipped the bag forwards. He felt the liquid lurch and slosh in its bag wrapped container beneath his arm. He listened intently as it gurgled out of the nozzle and splashed onto the carpet on the other side of the door until it had been emptied. He withdrew the hose and stuffed it down inside the bag.

The bag neatly sitting next to him, he reaching into his coat pocket. Topher withdrew a note with a drawing pin wedged in the top of it. He pinned it to the door just above the letterbox, then, with a final glance about, he got to his feet, and walked briskly back down the short path and out the gate.

Once down the street, Topher chanced a glance back at the house. It was unbelievable there wasn't a mob a raging neighbors dragging these annoying fuckers out by their necks and hanging them in the streets. No, everyone in this neighborhood continued to go on without taking action and putting a stop to it. It was the fear controlling their silence. The fear that these assholes had planted in everyone that came them away from their door. A fear Topher had, but one he had just now conquered. Fear wasn't going to keep him suffering from these insufferable assholes night after night any longer. No, he was fighting back. He struck his first blow tonight. A blow for peace and some fucking quiet.

And boy did it feel great.

He quickly distances himself from any outward appearance of jubilation. Glancing around the street one more time to make sure he hadn't drawn any attention. No one was observing him.

He smiled to himself and self-consciously punched the air in triumph. A second later, he turned the corner, and was gone.

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><p><strong><em>Final Thought:<em>**

_Seems like Topher's found a way to deal with his neighbors huh? Will it work? And what about Brick? He's getting a crush 'wink wink'_

_Next chapter we are going to have a little... party with Alejandro and Courtney. Nothing can go wrong._

_Drop a review and don't miss the next chapter. It's going to be hot 'wink wink'_

_Yours Truly, Fruity._


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